Confessions From A Rooftop - 3. Chapter 3

I’m in jail.

Yup, the cop arrested me and I went before a judge and was sentenced to 3 years in federal minimum security. It’s not that bad, though. I mean, it’s jail, so it sucks. But it could be a lot worse. It’s minimum security, so we get a lot more freedom. At first, I was stuffed into this small room with 5 other guys. After a few weeks in there, I was moved to a more permanent spot, with a room mate.

We get along well, I tend to keep to myself, but that doesn’t bother anyone. It’s not like you see in movies and stuff. Everyone just kind of does their own thing, no one wants to ruin what they’ve got. It’s minimum security, so it’s pretty lax all around. There’s always the people that are going to cause trouble, but for the most part if you respect the guards then they don’t make your life hell.

I was really worried at first, terrified, even. Due to the “brutal nature” of my crime, I was tried as an adult. But I explained everything that had happened to me, so the judge took pity on me. That’s why I got only 3 years and am in minimum security. But, because of me being considered an adult, I’m the youngest one here. I’ve seen a few of the older guys stare at me for a little too long, but overall, I’ve had no problems. No one is in here for kids-stuff, so I feel safer. A fair few are parents, and see their kids regularly in visiting times. They’re the nicest, I guess they feel a parental bond to me. They treat me nice and look out for me.

Speaking of visiting hours. I have no one on my permissions list and no one has tried to see me... It’s kind of depressing, but it’s just about the only sore spot in my life, right now. There’s another one, but I’ll get to him, later.

We’re all assigned duties, jobs, to keep us occupied and out of trouble. We get paid, too, but it’s such an insignificant amount that it basically doesn’t matter. I think someone did the math and if you worked 40 hours, 5 days a week for an entire year, before any taxes you’ll make like... $300 a year. That’s taking no breaks for anything, or holidays off. In my 3 years working full time, I’ll be lucky to walk away with $1,000, which is kind of shitty. But, I’m hoping to get some sort of education out of it, finish high school or something.

Anyways, so my job. I requested it specifically and they approved it because they thought it would help, but I get to sweep the roof. It requires special access, so I have to have a guard with me at all times, but it’s no big deal. Apparently, I’m a suicide risk, so I’m not allowed near the edges of the roof. They let me do it, anyways, but they keep an extra close eye on me and I need to tell them when I’m doing it.

It’s no big deal, though. Being up there on the roof keeps me sane, and they know it, I think. Sometimes I’ll stop in the middle of working and just meditate. The first time, the guard got kind of upset, but after the first time, he let me be. It’s always the same one and thankfully we get along pretty well. The last few times, he’s left me alone up there for a few minutes. It’s really nice.

I’ve been here for a few months now, and am really getting settled in. I spend a lot of my time reading and it’s very relaxing and mellow. I’ve been reading a lot lately, fully taking advantage of the library.

One Saturday evening, I was laying in my bunk, reading.

“Been reading all day, have you?” My roof guard asked me, leaning against the concrete wall.

“Yes, sir. I have. Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t you noticed the weather all day?”

I shook my head no, confused by the question.

“It’s been shitty weather all day. Leaves and crap all over the place. You know how the Warden likes his jail clean. You’ll get over time.”

I put my book down, smiled and followed him. I didn’t care about the over time, it’s not like it made much of a difference. The only other part of the jail I’d been to today was the mess hall. It doesn’t have windows, though, so there was no way for me to know what the weather was like. I still was feeling a little off today, so I guess my mood was subconsciously like the weather. Either way, time up there, to meditate would be nice.

We reached the access door and the guard handed me the broom. He shoved it against my chest and grabbed my shoulder.

“Listen now. This isn’t part of your regularly scheduled hours up here, so I’m supposed to be doing other stuff right now, besides watching you. You seem like a good kid and you’re smart enough not to mess this up. I’m going to be leaving you alone up here for a while. Don’t, I repeat, do not go near the edges. Leave a 6 foot gap between you and them. You can finish them off when I get back. I’ll leave this room jammed open, in case you need to go for any reason. But if I find you are making a run for it, I’ll shoot you myself.” As he said the last bit, he clutched his gun.

I nodded and took the broom from him, not saying anything. I quietly began to sweep all the leaves into piles. I was in absolutely no rush, so I was doing it very lazily. After a while, I had a nice patch cleared off, so I decided to meditate. Sitting cross legged, I closed my eyes and began to clear my mind. I don’t know how long I was like this when I heard the door open.

“I’m sorry, sir. I was just sitting for a mo- .. Oh, it’s you.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Oh, it’s me? You say. Jesus, you faggot. What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Go away, leave me alone, Wicker.”

So, the other bad thing I mentioned? Yeah, it’s a guy called Wicker. He’s in his early 20s, probably about 23. He shaved all his hair off and has all sorts of tattoos all over his arms. He’s basically a KKK Neo-Nazi kinda guy. Really quality human being, if you know what I mean. Not sure what he did or how he landed in minimum. The dude’s insane, though. He hates gays, probably more than black people or anyone else. He’s never really given me trouble before, except a shove in passing, some harsh words or a deathly stare. Him being up here, alone, with me on the roof, is bad, though. Really, really bad.

“Why should I go away? I got me a friend here, that wants to play with you.” As Wicker is saying this to me, he has a sneer on his face. He rolls up his sleeve and pulls out a shank. A razor blade melted into a tooth brush handle.

I grabbed the broom and held it by the end. Frantically, I was swinging the handle back and forth, to keep him away from me. He kept walking towards me, I kept backing up.

I looked back and noticed I was at the edge of the roof. He kept walking towards me, so all I could do was try hitting him with the wooden handle. After making contact with his arms a few times, he grabbed the handle and pulled the broom out of my hands.

He kept approaching me, now defenseless against his blade. He swung it back and forth, getting closer and closer to my face. Like what seems to happen to me every time I’m in a life or death situation, my mind went blank. It was over before the blink of an eye.